


27. Moving Day

by alley_oops, jennandanica



Series: Citadel: Sam Worthington and Ryan Kwanten [27]
Category: Actor RPF, Australian Actor RPF, Citadel (Journalfen RPG), True Blood RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-11-03
Updated: 2008-11-03
Packaged: 2018-01-14 22:53:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1281745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alley_oops/pseuds/alley_oops, https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennandanica/pseuds/jennandanica





	27. Moving Day

_**Ryan Kwanten & Sam Worthington: Moving Day**_  
[current]

Sam parks the cube van in front of the house and hops out, waiting for Ryan to join him at the antique metal door that leads to their front courtyard. "I can't believe it's ours," he says, almost reverentially, staring at the keys in his hand. "You want to do the honours?" he asks, offering them to Ryan. He's never owned, never rented, never had any place he's called his own, and now, this. Christ. A fucking 1920s beach house in Malibu. With his lover.

"You gonna carry me across the threshold?" Ryan teases, grinning at him. He pushes his sunglasses up on his forehead and takes the keys, then gives them a quick kiss before fitting them to the lock. "It's ours." He turns the key and swings the door wide for Sam.

"You open the main door and I will," Sam says, game for pretty much anything today. "As long as that doesn't actually make you my bride," he teases.

"I'm really not one for cross-dressing," Ryan murmurs, grinning. They cross the tiny courtyard and Ryan takes a deep breath, staring up at the house. _Their_ house. Okay, Sam's really. But his too, for now. He unlocks the main door, and throws Sam an excited smile.

Sam grins and scoops Ryan up in his arms, staggering only a little as he carries him over the threshold. "You're heavier than you look," he teases, knowing damn well it's all pure muscle.

Ryan just laughs and clings tight, his arms around Sam's neck. God, this feels good -- a high that's nearly orgasmic, he feels it so keenly. When Sam puts him back on his feet Ryan turns in the circle of his arms, slipping his hands through Sam's hair. "Ours," he murmurs, kissing his lover.

Sam nods, kissing back, unable to stop grinning. "Yeah. Ours." He kisses Ryan again, forcing himself to pull back a moment later. "We'd better get the boxes in before I decide molesting you's more urgent."

"Molesting me is _always_ urgent," Ryan insists, but he's already tugging Sam back towards the door, eager to bring all their things inside. "You've got more stuff than I thought you had," he says once they're back at the van, not criticizing, just observing. "Where'd it all come from, all of a sudden?"

Sam shrugs a little. "I emailed my mates, asked them to send me all the shit I'd left at their places." He picks up a couple of boxes. "I tried to go through it, but it's mostly books. I thought you could go through them with me."

"Yeah, sure. I always have a hard time throwing away books, though," Ryan warns, loading up with a heavy box and crossing the yard. "It seems like, as soon as I get rid of one, I need it a month later. We should get lots of shelves."

"We could have some built in," Sam says, liking the idea of custom shelves filling each nook and cranny. "Match them to the wood already in the house."

"Oh, that's brilliant! We could do that whole wall," Ryan says eagerly, pointing at the far side of the living room, "and then space out the art over here, and then have a special bookcase right here devoted to my porn collection, and..."

Sam blinks hard. "Your porn collection?"

"Porn is stuff you wank to, right?" Ryan grins, irrepressible. "I'm collecting everything starring you that I can get my hands on." He heads out to the van to collect more stuff.

Sam laughs, shaking his head, quickly trying to sort the boxes into various rooms before he joins Ryan back at the van. "My mates are all going to think my head's swelled if you put them out where everyone can see."

''So will I be meeting some of your mates?'' Ryan asks curiously, loading up his arms. Wondering how much Sam will tell them.

"Yeah. Though I'll have to tell you who knows and who doesn't," Sam says, getting in the van and pushing more boxes towards the door before jumping down and following Ryan, his arms loaded as well.

''All right,'' Ryan murmurs, thinking. ''Will it bother you... I mean, is there anyone I shouldn't tell about us? My mom still doesn't know your full name.''

Sam thinks about that, surprisingly touched by the fact Ryan's guarded his privacy even with his parents. "You can tell your mum," he says. "And whoever else you think'll shush up."

"I'll have to think about that, then," Ryan grins. He checks the markings on his boxes and heads up the stairs to the master bedroom. It's a bit of work, but he's glad he and Sam opted not to use a moving company and just do things themselves. Every little bit that protects them, their togetherness, is surely a good thing. He needs to get used to being part of a couple again.

Sam brings in a number of boxes while Ryan's upstairs, piling them just inside the door and by the island in the kitchen. He'll sort them out later. He just wants to make sure he gets the van out of the way before the piano moving company arrives. "Hey. What time did the piano guys say they were coming again?" he yells up the stairs, checking his watch.

"Should be about two hours," Ryan calls back. Enough time for them to finish unloading the van and order some lunch first. He jogs down the stairs and flashes Sam a wide smile, excited at the thought of his piano being here in this house, in the perfect spot.

"Okay. Good," Sam smiles back and pulls Ryan in against him when he gets close enough, kissing him long and soft on the mouth. "I'm going to keep bringing in boxes until we get to the furniture. Maybe you can sort them into rooms?"

"Mm-hmm." Ryan nods, licking his lips, then covers Sam's mouth again. He slips his fingers through Sam's hair, kissing him deeper. So fucking happy he doesn't want to let go.

Sam hands slide down Ryan's back, cupping his ass and hiking him against his front. Christ. He groans into the kiss, tongue diving into Ryan's mouth, tangling with his as he grinds against him.

Ryan whimpers into the kiss. Sam always has this effect on him: melting him like butter at the same time he gets him hard as steel. Ryan rubs back, feeling the stiff ridge of Sam's cock pressing against him through layers of clothing. "Gonna fuck me in every room?" he asks breathlessly. "Christen the place?"

Sam nods. "Starting with the kitchen," he says, moving them both to the island. "Bend over," he orders, hand already moving to the back of Ryan's neck, pushing him down, facing the screen doors which lead out to the deck and down to the beach.

That hand, god. It puts Ryan down so damn fast, the psychological weight heavier than the actual muscle and bone. He moans softly, pressing his cheek to smooth wood, a hazy view of the ocean before his eyes. He pushes his hips back and scrabbles at his belt buckle.

The moment Ryan's got that buckle and zipper undone, Sam drags his jeans down over his hips, exposing his ass, his already slicked hole. He frees his own cock, already wet at the tip, and presses the head up against that tight pucker, rubbing over it for a moment before pushing in, fast and hard, with a low ragged groan.

Gritting his teeth Ryan shoves back. It burns, but only for seconds, and he quickly loses himself in Sam, the feeling of being taken over, subdued. Fucked.

Hand braced on the back of Ryan's neck, Sam drives into him, every thrust matching that first one, hard, rough, demanding. His eyes on his cock as it slides into Ryan's hole, the pink skin turning red, stretching to take him again and again. "Fucking slut," he murmurs, loving the way Ryan takes it; takes everything he wants to give him and keeps begging for more.

The word twists lust in Ryan's belly, hot and liquid. "Yes," he whispers, clamping down around Sam to heighten sensation. "Your slut." He's breathless now. "Fuck me, Sir. Use me." He scrambles for a hold on the edges of the kitchen island.

Sam grips Ryan's nape even tighter, using the hold for leverage, and slams into him. All the way out and then back in. Cock stabbing into him, forcing him open, battering his hole.

Ryan shouts, jerking against Sam's hold. Going absolutely nowhere. His knuckles are white with his grip on the wood, and he lets himself yell, every thrust coring him open until he just feels like raw meat. "Please!" he bursts out, his neglected cock weeping a desperate tear, "Please touch me, Sir!"

Sam shakes his head. "No. You want to come, you do it like this," he says, fucking Ryan even harder, driving relentlessly towards his own orgasm.

"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck." Ryan grits his teeth, his entire body seizing up tight. He wants so damn much to touch himself, so he fists his hands harder on the kitchen island, worried he'll slip and disobey Sam. He desperately tries to focus, willing himself to come from the pounding in his ass.

Another dozen thrusts and Sam goes over, not even trying to hold back. His hips stutter, his cock starting to spurt and he shouts out his pleasure, emptying every last drop into Ryan's ass.

Ryan whines, working Sam's cock with his muscles and feeling every shudder of pleasure like it's a shock up his spine. He's so close, so close, so... " _Fuck!_ " Painfully aroused and poised there on the brink. "Sir, please!"

"No." Sam keeps Ryan pinned where is, pulling back and out, his come visible just inside Ryan's hole.

"Oh jesuschristfuck." Ryan gulps in air and tries to steady himself when he's fucking shaking with need. He's still rocking slightly. Later, he'll love Sam even more for this -- taking a strong hand with him. Right now he wants to cry.

"You have five minutes to go clean yourself up. If you come, I'll know, so you'd better still be hard," Sam says, before finally releasing his grip on Ryan's neck.

"Yes, Sir." Ryan whispers the words, then slowly pushes himself upright. He can feel Sam's come leaking out of his ass, and he groans. _Christ_. Dragging his jeans up one-handed, he makes his way to the downstairs bathroom and does a quick clean-up, sighing over the sorry state of his cock. "Fuck."

Sam's brought in more boxes by the time Ryan gets back. "You okay?" he asks, touching Ryan's hip and drawing him close again for a relatively chaste kiss.

Ryan moans and grabs Sam; no way is he letting him get away with that. He licks hungrily into Sam's mouth, fingers wrapped around his throat. Just as hot now as he was at the beginning. Hotter.

Sam gives Ryan a minute, deepening the kiss, his softening cock reacting anew. But then he's pulling back. "Start sorting the boxes," he says firmly. "Otherwise the piano guys'll get here and we won't have had any lunch or even got the van out of the way."

Well, someone has to be the sensible one. _Fuck_. Ryan steps back with a frustrated frown but turns to do as he's told. They work out a good rhythm -- Sam emptying the van step by step, and Ryan sorts the boxes among the rooms. They don't have much furniture between them, particularly given that they left Ryan's bedframe in his old flat, in favor of the massive wooden one already in the master bedroom. New mattresses, though, those are important. It takes some doing to walk backwards up the angling stairs carrying his end.

Once they get the mattress set squared on the bed, Sam flops down on his back, grinning up at Ryan. The van's empty and they still have enough time to grab lunch but right now, he just wants to take a moment to savour this. "Christ. Look at that fucking view," he says, still stunned that this place, overlooking the water, is theirs. That this view is the one they're going to wake up to - together - every single day. Well, when they're in L.A. anyway.

"We can roll out of bed each morning, open the door, and go right downstairs to the beach," Ryan says, just as excited. He lies down on his stomach, resting his chin on his folded arms and staring out past their deck. "Just keep our surfboards right... there. Get out on the water every single day."

"You sure you're not going to be pissed at me when I drag you on location?" Sam says with a smile, watching Ryan.

"I will miss this, it's true." Ryan can't wait to wake up tomorrow, in the newness of it all -- even with things left to unpack. He turns to smile at Sam. "But I'd miss you a hell of a lot more."

"At least for the first while," Sam teases, pulling his phone from his back pocket. "What do you want for lunch?"

''Pizza and beer. It's a gorgeous day, we can even eat outside,'' Ryan suggests. His mind's not really on food right now, though -- he's too busy watching Sam's mouth.

Sam dials his favourite pizzeria and orders two medium pizzas - one with tomatoes, sausage and mushrooms and the other with bacon, pepperoni and black olives - and a six-pack of Heineken. "Thirty minutes," he tells Ryan, hanging up, catching his lover staring at him. "What?" Grinning widely.

"Just wondering what I need to promise to get your mouth on me," Ryan murmurs, raising an eyebrow at Sam's expression.

Sam laughs. "There isn't anything you can promise me. You're not coming until tonight. After it's dark and I've got you bent over the deck railing..."

Ryan groans, and lust twists into a hard knot in his gut. He can picture it like _that_ , and he's so damn hard already. "Not fair, Sir," he murmurs, his lips quirking into a grin.

"Life's not fair," Sam murmurs, eyes sparkling. "Or so my dad always says."

"And you're just crying a river over that, aren't you? Yeah, I can see that," Ryan laughs. God, he loves this man. "Give me one last kiss and I'll go move the van."

Sam rolls onto his side and leans in, his lips sliding along Ryan's, warm and soft and promising more. "I'll make it up to you later," he whispers, finally drawing back.

It's just in time -- Ryan melts into Sam, following the kiss when he pulls away. With a sigh he drops his cheek onto his arm, then draws in a deep steadying breath. "You'd better," he whispers, a teasing light in his eye before he rolls off the new mattress and jogs lightly back downstairs.

While Ryan moves the van, Sam digs through the boxes until he finds the one they marked linens and quickly makes up the bed. It's the last thing they need to be doing tonight when they're completely exhausted. And after he's finished with Ryan on the deck.

Ryan leaves the outside gate propped open invitingly, and soon enough there's a knock on the door. He digs out his wallet to pay for the food, figuring it's kind of pathetic how happy he is to do it. But having Sam buy him a _house_ for god's sake is taking getting used to, though he's trying to be good about it. He's just not accustomed to being taken care of.

"Lunch," he calls up the stairs, digging paper napkins and disposable plates out of the take-away bag. Hot pizza, cold beer, deck overlooking the ocean, gorgeous boyfriend. Sometimes, life is pretty damn perfect.

Sam joins Ryan on the deck, planting a quick kiss on the nape of his lover's neck before cracking open a beer and grabbing a slice of pizza. He sets himself down in a lounger, pulling a second one a little closer and grins at Ryan. "This just gets better and better, doesn't it?"

''Pretty amazing.'' Ryan couldn't be happier. ''Think we can get all unpacked before it's time to leave for Australia?'' he asks, only half serious.

"I hope so," Sam says, folding his slice of pizza in half and taking a huge bite. "I'd kind of like everything to be settled for when we come back."

Ryan nods and knocks back a cold swallow of beer. "It will be. I'll make it so," he assures Sam. "And then the rooms that need to be finished, like the playroom, those will take a little bit longer. But all our initial stuff that we've brought with us -- that'll be sorted."

Sam reaches across to take Ryan's hand and give it a squeeze. "Thanks. It'll be really nice to know where all my shit is for once," he muses. "I can't even remember the last time I had everything I own in one place."

 _Including me_ , Ryan thinks, but that's definitely not something he's going to say aloud. He polishes off his first slice of pizza, settling back into his deck chair. The view truly is incredible -- looking west over the Pacific ocean, sun bright on the water, seagulls diving in the surf. "I just love this smell, you know?" he murmurs, his eyes full of the sea. "It's always calmed me."

"Yeah." Sam nods. "You gonna be out here first thing in the morning doing yoga?" He grins, getting up for another slice and to put the boxes and beer between them. The less he has to move right now, the better.

Ryan grins widely at the thought. "First yoga, then surfing," he agrees. "Then get my ass inside before I freeze to death." He eyes his lover sidelong. "And while I'm out here bending myself in half, you'll be doing... what?"

"Wanking while watching you," Sam says with a laugh. "And working out which poses I can fuck you in."

"Christ." Ryan presses his beer bottle to his forehead, letting the condensation cool his suddenly hot skin. " _That_ will fuck with my zen." He can't even breathe evenly now, and they're only talking. "Not that I'm trying to talk you out of it."

"Good, cause I can tell you right now it wouldn't work," Sam says, his grin widening, his jeans suddenly a little tighter than they were a moment before.

Ryan bites back a smile, staring out at the ocean. "I think maybe I should help you with that, though. Suck you off. Swallow. Make sure you don't miss a drop."

"Maybe..." Sam teases. "I thought you were going surfing right after your yoga?"

With a dramatic groan, Ryan shrugs. "Such a dilemma," he says. "You're sure you won't come surfing with me, after I lick you clean?" He chuckles. "I think I know better than to ask you to do yoga with me."

Sam makes a face. "I'll watch but I won't join you and yeah, I'll come surfing after you suck me off." He grins. "Is that going to be our morning routine?"

The words 'morning routine' just make Ryan smile. They're really doing this, and it still amazes him. "Yeah," he decides, like it was really ever a question. He grins at Sam, a sparkle in his eye. "Yeah, that works for me."


End file.
